The Newyam Poem by ANTHONY ANIGBATA

THE NEW YAM

Our yams have bore into earth
And their body swollen deep inside
Their bole climbing up the stalk sticks
Reaching for the smiling sun

Our yams, the new yams are out
From the dark covering of the earth
The big beauteous tubers
Sitting steadily in the barn
The moon just in broken half
With the stars gathering her
And welcoming the new yam

This year, the God of harvest answered
Our ceaseless prayers, at his shrine
And our swards were free from past.
This season, no more famished families
For our weeny seed crested
Up the inserted peg, and was full green.
The soil we ploughed has produced plenty.

It is time of the new yam
We have come out with our gigantic tubers
Prideful farmers we should be
As dancers and drummers display their talents
Celebrating the come of the new yam.

The yams, our new yam is out
Children and adults gather
Sit together on hairless goat skin
Longing for their share of the roasted yam
Oil in big bowl and calabash wait
Hands to immerse in their stagnant surfaces

The markets soon will see our smiling faces
As we bring out big tubers for sale.
Our yams are out of the boggy soil
The yields plenteous like the stars.

Our yams the new yams are out
Let's celebrate and mock, the wicked spirit drought